so man, you’ve left all vestiges of your urban lodonn-centred life behind. it’s obvious to us now. I guess we should have seen it coming. The expression crossing the rubicon doesn’t cover it for you at all. the rubicon was only a river. whereas you, you’ve attached a couple of crampons to your cowboy boots and climbed the cultural wall of no return. any calls you make from now on will be picked up solely by aboriginal youngbloods tracing their ancestral songlines. the 4 x 4 status of the vehicle you drove is a metaphor for the boost your soul gets from the architecture of nature, and part of the ground you’ve covered (with your new six string slung in back seat next to a springsteen songbook) is soul terrain and you know it. the only way back now is a plane ticket but you figure why bother since your soul has touched the sky already on the GOR . and it’s no coincidence that the road you’re travelling on sounds a lot like G’n’R coz you blazing an axe trail that’s visible to the pantheon of the 12 apostles sitting up above but we aint talkin’ peter or mathew or john or luke no we talkin’ hasselhoff, Caruso, Bono et al. and they lookin’ down on you like a true apostle of the blade coz you na take care a you buddie,jimmie